


Time

by knuckles___00



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bisexual Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Fix-It, Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29770683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knuckles___00/pseuds/knuckles___00
Summary: Richie Tozier, comedy extraordinaire, has to go back to his hometown and fight the demon-clown from his childhood. He totally wouldn't have gone if he hadn't made that stupid promise all those years ago.But, here he was. Fighting the damn clown.He had to watch his best friend he hadn't known existed for 27 years die on top of him. Tragic, he knew.And somehow he got a second chance. A do-over so he hopefully didn't screw everything up.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Kudos: 5





	Time

**Author's Note:**

> hey lol warning for blood/gore(??).  
> this is the first thing ive written in a while. hope its not terrible. 
> 
> (chapter title 'there is a light that never goes out' by the smiths

Richie held the rock firmly in his hand.  
“Yippie ki-yay mother-!”

Black. 

All he could see was black. 

He couldn’t hear anything.  
It was silent and dark and fucking terryifiying. 

He tried calling out for someone, but he couldn’t even hear his own voice. 

Richie thought he must be dead or something. What other explanation is there for this? Is this what hell is?  
Well, then, it was better than he imagined. 

It was lonely as fuck, though . At least give him a hell-partner or something so he wouldn’t go totally insane. He still had some mom-jokes to crack.  
Maybe this was his punishment for the mom-jokes.  
Damn it. He was his own worst enemy all along. 

He sat alone for what could’ve been hours, but how was he supposed to tell? He couldn’t see shit. 

Then, he heard something. A fucking voice. Eddie’s voice. 

“-think I got It, man!” Eddie’s voice yelled. 

Richie’s vision slowly started to come back, white spots and blurry shapes.  
A figure- Eddie -was on top of him. 

“I think I killed It!”  
Richie looked up at Eddie, eyes wide.  
Eddie was smiling brightly, hands on Richie’s shoulders. 

“I did! I think I killed It for real!” Eddie grinned, shaking Richie’s shoulders. 

There was a squelch noise, then Richie felt blood spatter on his face and chest. 

A claw was fucking coming out of Eddie’s chest. An actual fucking claw from that dipshit clown. 

Richie watched as Eddie was pulled back, trying to push himself up from the ground.  
“Eddie!”  
He had to sit and watch as Eddie was thrown by that mother fucking clown. He felt helpless. He couldn’t get up, his heart was pounding, and he’d just seen his long-lost-probably-one-sided love get thrown by the clown he’d sworn to kill.  
Horrible. It was horrible. 

That bitch was gonna fucking get it. 

And it did. That fucking clown got what it deserved. That fucking clown was dead, gone forever. 

Richie tried to get Eddie out of there before the building collapsed on the six of them. He tried to convince the other Loser’s to take Eddie, but they wouldn’t fucking do it.  
How could they just fucking leave him here? It was dirty as hell! They could save him!

He was pulled out of Neibolt house as it collapsed. Without Eddie. 

Maybe this was hell, because it was worse than being in that darkness, whatever the fuck it was. Yes, the darkness was terrible, but now his best-friend was actually dead because of that stupid ass clown.  
Richie didn’t even get to tell Eddie he loved him, like he was planning to do when this bullshit was over. 

He had hoped that killing a killer clown from outer space would give him the balls to tell Eddie he was totally in love with him, in the most gay way possible. (Big surprise there. Not)

Now, he literally couldn’t. Cock-blocked by that damn clown. 

The Loser’s, (Sort of.) were now at the quarry, one of the last places Richie would want to be. Too many memories resurfacing.  
He sat down on a rock while the others washed themselves of clown-goo and blood. 

He started laughing first, the realization of what had just happened sounding fucking crazy in his mind.  
Then, the tears. Fat, crocodile tears slid down his cheeks and fell into the sort-of green water of the quarry.  
How could he miss someone he barely fucking knew? This was bullshit. 

Richie cried for a while, then stopped, then started again. The cycle kept repeating, even after he got back to the townhouse, back to his room, got in the shower, got himself something to drink, or when he crawled onto the too-hard mattress of his bed. The tears just kept coming, then stopping, then starting again.  
He tried to fall asleep, pulling the thin blankets of the bed over his head. His eyes were closed, but he was still somehow crying. It was like some fucking wizard had casted a spell on him that gave him the ability to never run out of tears.  
It was tiring. 

It was a while before he finally got to sleep.  
Not good sleep, no, not by any means. But, it was sleep nonetheless. It helped to ease the aching of muscles and bones. (and heart.)  
His dreams were….weird.  
They weren’t scary enough to qualify as nightmares, but Richie didn’t really know if he could call them dreams. It didn’t feel right.  
The ‘dreams’ were more like..hallucinations, it felt like. Retellings of memories from his childhood with the Loser’s, but there was always something off about them. Either someone did or said something and it didn’t fit the scene.  
Stan always did something weird, not anyone else. It was always Stan.  
Richie couldn’t remember any of the details, but it was always Stan. 

Richie woke up in the middle of the night, throat dry. His head hurt as well.  
Fumbling around with his glasses, he got up and got himself a glass of water with one of those plastic cups they always have in hotel rooms. He downed it quickly, just wanting to get back to sleep. His limbs still ached, and the wounds he’d gotten fighting the damn clown stung.

He felt like crying all over again once he was back in bed, the tears stinging his eyes.  
The ‘dreams’ he’d had, the memories, all had Eddie in them. He was glad to have them back after all these years, but they hurt like a stab in the heart.  
That kid from all those years ago, with the fanny pack and the inhaler, the one Richie had loved with all his heart and had pestered constantly with mom-jokes and such, was dead. 

This was all Richie’s fault, he knew it. If he hadn’t acted like a fucking idiot trying to attack the clown, he wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Eddie would be wherever he wanted to be, and Richie might’ve even confessed his undying love for the man.  
This could’ve all fucking happened if it weren’t for him and his non-existant impulse control. 

At least the other Loser’s were happy. He was happy for them. 

Richie cried himself back to sleep, head still throbbing, not ‘dreaming’ this time. (Which was for the best.)

~~~

Richie was back in the dark room, if you could call it that. No noise, no light.  
He wasn’t sure if he was actually alive this time around. Maybe he’d stayed behind with Eddie and died as Neibolt collapsed. He hoped that’s what happened. 

Nothing happened for a while, just like last time. He didn’t try to shout for anyone, knowing it would just make his throat hurt again. 

What he didn’t expect to happen was to hear Eddie’s voice. Hadn’t he died?

“I think I got It, man!” Richie heard Eddie shout, loud and clear. 

“I think I killed It!”  
Richie’s vision was returning. He could make out the shape of Eddie on top of him. Again. 

“I did! I think I killed-!”  
Before Eddie could continue, Richie shoved him to the side as hard as he could out of the way, then attempted to roll out of the way of the claw shooting through the air.

Richie heard Eddie land on the ground with a loud ‘oof’. Thank fuck, he was safe this time.  
This time? Was this a do over? Did he get another chance at this?

Before he could answer his own question, pain shot up and down Richie’s leg from a spot on his thigh. He cursed loudly, looking at what had caused it to see the fucking claw through his right leg.  
“Holy shit..Holy shit!” He screamed. “Someone fucking help!”  
He sat up and tried to pull the claw out of himself so he wouldn’t get dragged away, shouting loudly at the pain.  
At least it wasn’t through his chest. 

In his peripheral vision, he saw Eddie pushing himself up and quickly making his way over to him.  
Richie kept pulling at the claw, mumbling a string of curses with each pull.  
Eddie stood by him for a few seconds, quiet as a god damn mouse, before getting on his knees to help Richie pull the claw out of himself.  
With a few more hard tugs, the claw dislodged itself. Richie shouted loudly, his vision going white for a moment. This hurt so fucking bad, like nothing he’d ever felt before. And this was just his leg.  
He wondered how Eddie had felt with the same claw through his chest. 

“You gonna fucking help me up here, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie chuckled breathlessly, propping himself up on his elbows. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, because this fucking hurt. He was allowed to cry now.  
“Beep beep, Rich.” Eddie mumbled, getting up from his knees and holding a hand out.  
Richie took it, attempting to push himself up from the ground with his unharmed leg. 

It was sort-of successful. He managed to get up, trying his best to focus on something other than the actual fucking hole in his thigh. If you got eye-level it, you could probably see right through the other side.  
He leaned on Eddie. “Well shit, there goes my best pair of pants.” He chuckled softly.  
“Shut the fuck up, Richie.” Eddie bit, trying to pull the other man to a safe area where no space-clown claw would come after him. “Aren’t you fucking worried about the actual hole in your leg? It’s probably going to get fucking infected while we’re down here. And if we want to try and save the leg, which is most likely not going to fucking happen, an infection will not make the fucking process any easier!” He rambled, leaning Richie against the wall of an opening he had found. 

Richie was starting to feel dizzy, sweat matting his hair to his forehead. “I don’t care about my leg. I can get a prosthetic or whatever. I can pull a whole lot more chicks that way.” He grinned. “Chicks dig a good sob-story about losing a limb.”  
“How the fuck would you know? From what I’ve gathered, you probably haven’t had an actual conversation with a woman in years.” Eddie threw back, sitting down next to Richie. 

“Isn’t there still a fucking like, space clown for us to fight?” Richie laughed, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes. “I’m not hallucinating?”  
Eddie rolled his eyes. “No, there still totally is. Thought I’d just take a breather, make sure you’re not gonna fucking die before we get out of this shit hole.”  
“Sounds like someone cares for ‘ol Trashmouth.” Richie teased, glancing over to see Eddie staring directly at him.  
“Fuck off, dude. You could’ve died.” Eddie frowned.  
“You could’ve, too. If I hadn’t shoved you out of the way with my strong ass arms you’d be dead right now.” Richie laughed. “But, I did, so now you're alive, and I’m the only one injured.”  
That earned him a light shove on the shoulder. 

“We should probably get back out there. Fight the clown. Kill the clown.” Richie said, trying to push himself up. The pain got worse when he moved, he learned.  
“You’re not going anywhere, dude. Unless you want to pass out.” Eddie said, getting up. “You stay here. We’re gonna kill the clown, then come and get you out of here and to a hospital. Got it?”  
“Got it, Dr. K!” Richie nodded, giving the other a mock salute.  
Eddie rolled his eyes, then ran off to join the others. 

Eddie really hadn’t changed that much. 

Richie’s leg throbbed. He felt even dizzier, blood pooling around him. His eyes felt heavy, but he used some of his remaining energy to rip off his pant leg.  
He pulled the piece of clothing off, folding it up and pressing it up against his wound. He’d heard somewhere, (Eddie) that applying pressure to a wound would help stop the bleeding. Richie didn’t really know if that applied to this situation, but it probably wouldn’t hurt to try. 

Richie listened to the rest of the fight, trying hard to keep his eyes open. His eyelids felt about 10 pounds heavier, and there was so much blood around himself, but he had to stay awake.  
If this was an actual second chance he got, he didn’t want to screw it because he died instead of Eddie. 

So, he willed himself to stay awake. And it worked. 

Eddie came back for him with Ben and Bill.  
“Oh, Eddie, my love, you came back for me!” Richie gasped, placing a hand on his heart. “My knight in shining armour!”  
“Shut the fuck up, Rich.” Eddie chuckled, shaking his head. “We have to get out of here before this shit hole caves in.”  
“Well, if that’s the case, I need someone to fucking carry me out of here. I am totally not gonna be able to walk.” Richie laughed, gesturing at the blood that had pooled around himself.  
“That’s why I have these two, fuckface.” Eddie mumbled. 

Bill and Ben helped hoist Richie up onto his feet, wrapping their arms around the injured man’s hips.  
Richie draped his arm over Bill and Ben’s shoulders, limping out of the hole in the wall with them. Eddie trailed behind them. 

“M-Mike found a w-w-way out.” Bill said. “But, we-we’re gonna have t-to hurry.” 

Dirt was starting to lightly sprinkle around them.  
“I can see that.” Richie snorted. 

~~~~~

All six of them got out alive, thank god.  
Eddie was fucking alive and Richie was ecstatic. His best friend was alive and uninjured, so it seemed to work out. 

Richie had gone to the hospital in Derry. They had somehow been able to save his leg, by some fucking miracle. Everyone else seemed to be alright as well, other than the initial trauma of fighting an alien-clown. 

Ben and Bev had happily run off together a couple days after Richie had been admitted, sending updates on a group chat that had all the Loser’s numbers on it.  
Bill had gone home to Audra, also texting updates about everything going on in his life.  
Mike had started his travel journey, much to Richie’s encouragement, leaving Derry and setting off to Florida.  
Eddie was, surprisingly, still with Richie. He had been the entirety of Richie’s hospital stay. He knew that this was probably a problem for Eddie. He had a wife and all, that bugged him constantly about coming home. Richie had heard shouting matches on the phone more times than he could count. 

On Richie’s last day at the hospital, Eddie had been super quiet, not even responding to a shitty mom-joke Richie had cracked. 

“Dude, what’s up?” Richie asked as they were getting ready to leave, limping out of the door on a pair of crutches. “You look like someone shit in your cereal this morning.”  
“I think I’m gonna divorce Myra.” Eddie responded. “She’s been on my ass about staying here, even though you’ve been hurt and I’ve been trying to fucking help you. She thinks I’m just trying to fucking get away from her, which isn’t totally wrong, but I’m mostly here for you.” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I can’t fucking handle her anymore.” 

Richie nodded along with him. “That’s...really good, Ed’s!” He grinned. “I fucking hated her. She was a bitch and you deserve way better than her. And I know you’ll have ladies piling up at your feet.”  
“Fuck off.” Eddie shot. “But, yeah, I think this’ll be good for me. I can finally be independent and like, I can finally be my own person. No overbearing mother-figure.”  
“I’d totally hug you right now, but, the crutches are kind of a problem.” Richie chuckled, smiling brightly at the other man. “Oh, also, I didn’t really have the chance to ask because I thought you were staying with your god-awful wife, but, would you want to move into my apartment in LA? I’ve got a whole extra bedroom and shit, and it would be totally cool if you moved in. But, I won't be upset if you say no.” 

Eddie picked up a backpack of his stuff, hoisting it onto his shoulder. “I..Rich, if you’re being serious here, I’d fucking love to. I hate New York.” He chuckled, staring wide-eyed at Rich.  
“Of course I’m being serious! This is one of the few times I’m being totally fucking serious!” Richie laughed, limping through the open door with Eddie behind him. “I can put your name on the lease, too! We’ll have a rad-ass bachelor pad!”  
“If you call your place a ‘rad-ass bachelor pad’ one more time, I won't move in.” Eddie threatens, walking beside Richie. “That’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth, dude.”  
“I can say a whole lot worse, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie winked. “This Trashmouth is good for more than just mom-jokes.”  
“Yeah, because making jokes about how big your dick is definitely a good use of you stupid fucking mouth.” Eddie said, bumping his shoulder into Richie’s arm. His shoulder wasn’t high enough to reach Richie’s, because that mother fucker had inches on him. 

“I’m just spreading the truth, Eds! The world needs to know that I’m hung as a fucking horse!” Richie laughed, bumping Eddie right back and almost tripping over himself.  
“Like I’m supposed to fucking believe you. Your nickname is literally ‘Trashmouth’!” Eddie grinned.  
“You should believe me! I saved your ass from a clown claw! You owe me!”

~~~

They were in a rental car, heading to the closest airport from Derry. Eddie had booked them two tickets to California.  
The only sound in the car was the music from the radio. Richie was on the verge of falling asleep, head resting up against the window. His eyes were nearly closed. “Hey, Eds?” He asked.  
“Don’t fucking call me that.” Eddie said immediately. “What?”  
“I’m gay. Like, 100%, totally gay.” Richie yawned, shutting his eyes completely. “Never thought girls were hot. Jeff Goldblum on the other hand.” He chuckled. “I’d let him rock my shit any day.”  
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Thanks for telling me. I hope you know this isn’t gonna allow you to talk about how many male celebrities you have or want to bang, Rich.” He glared. “But, yeah, Jeff Goldblum is pretty hot. And have you fucking seen Paul Rudd? Dude’s like our age and hasn’t aged since he was 20!”  
Richie laughed softly. “Paul Rudd is pretty hot. I went to the same house party as him once. Didn’t say hello to him or anything, but I saw him.”  
Eddie’s eyes widened. “You’re fucking kidding me, no shit? I forget that you’re actually famous sometimes.” He chuckled. 

Richie could see the airport in the distance. “I met Adam Sandler once. I forgot why, but I did.” He hummed.  
Eddie slapped him on the shoulder. “God, you are a fucking sellout! Adam Sandler, you piece of shit?” He laughed.  
“Was a sellout, my love. I’m gonna start writing my own shit now. Maybe come out or whatever, who knows. Start dating again, I don’t know. I just wanna be better than I was, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie smiled, running a hand through his greasy hair.  
Eddie nodded, not saying anything in response.  
The radio was playing some song Richie liked, so he turned it up and quietly sang along. 

“I think I’m gay, too. Not like, 100%. I still think women are attractive. But, men are, too.” Eddie said quietly. “Bi? Is that word?” He chuckled.  
Richie smiled over at him. “Damn, Eds. You’ve got an even higher chance of getting in someone’s pants than I do.” He giggled.  
“Shut the fuck up, Rich.” Eddie sighed, a fond smile on his lips. “And..uh..Hate to break it to you, but I won't be getting in anyone's pants. I never liked that shit. Don’t think I ever will.”  
“Well, then.” Richie hummed. “You have a higher chance of having a nice, stable relationship with someone than I do.”  
Eddie shook his head. “Beep-beep, asshole.”

~~~

The two were on a plane now. It hadn’t taken off yet, but Eddie looked just about ready to die.  
“You alright, Eds?” Richie asked, brows furrowed. He gently squeezed the other’s forearm.  
Eddie shook his head, reaching for Richie’s hand and taking it. “I always fucking hated being on a plane. So many germs and people.” He muttered. “And being in the fucking sky, very far from the ground.”  
Richie frowned, squeezing Eddie’s hand. “Hey, we’ll be fine. Remember those two times you fought an evil space clown? Planes stand no fucking chance against you, Eddie Spaghetti.”  
The shorter man nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Rich.” He smiled softly.  
“Of course, Eds.”  
“How many times do I have to fucking tell you to not call me that?”  
“You don’t. I’m aware that you don’t like it, but I love it.” Richie grinned. 

Eddie punched him in the shoulder. “Ass.”  
Richie pushed his hand away. “That was my shoulder, Eds.”  
“Shut the fuck up, dipshit.” 

The two men kept shooting shit back and forth as the plane lifted off. Richie tried to keep Eddie distracted from the fact that they were thousands of feet in the air. 

“You did not! You fucking liar!” Eddie said quietly. “You’re full of shit!”  
“No, I’m not! You can look it up, it was a huge thing!” Richie laughed. “I write comedy pretty well, got hired to write for SNL in my 20’s, then got fired because I wrote in the word ‘fuck’ way to many times!”  
“When we land, I’m checking this shit. I can’t believe you.” Eddie sighed. “Writing for SNL! That’s fucking huge! And you got fired!?”  
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been saying, Eddie!”

A few hours had passed since the plane lifted off. Richie had passed out, his dose of pain meds hitting him hard with some drowsiness. Eddie was reading one of Bill’s books, making notes on sticky-notes of parts he thought were so god-awful they were funny. He thought Richie would enjoy them.  
“These are fucking awful…” Eddie chuckled to himself, placing a bookmark in the book and setting it down. He couldn’t wait to make fun of Bill for whatever that was.  
It was nice, Eddie thought. Not being on a plane or whatever, but being next to Richie. He always felt nice when he was next to Richie, no matter what.  
He was an idiot in love, Eddie knew that. He was so in love with the man snoring next to him on a plane. He was in love with a man who made dick jokes for a living.  
He really was an idiot. 

It was nearing the end of their flight, so Eddie took it upon himself to wake Richie up, gently shaking his shoulder.  
“The fuck do you want..?” Richie mumbled, shoving Eddie’s hand away.  
“The plane's landing, asshole. Wake up.” Eddie said, shaking his shoulder some more. “If you don’t, I’m leaving you on the plane for some poor old lady to find.”  
“I would be a blessing to her eyes, Eds.” Richie smiled, sitting up and pulling his hood off.  
“Blessing?” The shorter man snorted. “That sounds pretty overkill, if you ask me.”  
“Well, I wasn’t. So, you can shut that pretty little yapper of yours help me up.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes and slung his backpack over his shoulder, standing up. He held his hand out for Richie to take as the taller man got up without causing too much commotion. He stepped out of the way so Richie and his dumb ass crutches could get into the isle.  
After double-checking their seats to make sure nothing was left behind, the pair left with their luggage from the overhead and their backpacks they’d kept with them. 

“Welcome to California, Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie announced loudly once the two of them were out of the plane. “It really isn’t as great as everyone says it is!”  
Eddie elbowed him in the ribs. “Be quiet, asshole. People are gonna stare.” He muttered. “And I bet it’ll be fine. Better than New York.”  
“That’s where you’re probably wrong.” The taller man snorted. “We’ve got celebrities and traffic, it just doesn’t get as cold in the winter.”  
Eddie shook his head with a fond smile. “It’ll be just fine, especially with your blabbing 24/7.” He chuckled. “All of your shit talk will be enough to distract me from whatever bullshit is going on. Not saying I’ll enjoy it, but it’ll be nice to have a distraction.”  
“What can I say? That’s what I’m here for, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie grinned, leaning his weight on his crutches so he could pat Eddie’s shoulder.  
“Don’t fucking call me that, asshole.”  
“You know you love it, Eds.”  
“I don’t! Shut up!”  
“In your dreams, honey.”

**Author's Note:**

> also, main title and chapters come from a playlist i made for my bf. (im a gay guy)


End file.
